Fatuous
by Zyzyax
Summary: Written for Spyfest 2018 Week Three. Prompt: "Just because you're good at tiptoeing doesn't mean you're meant to be a spy." Characters may be slightly OOC. No Romance!


**Fatuous**

* * *

Prompt: "Just because you're good at tiptoeing doesn't mean you're meant to be a spy." Due: July 22

* * *

Fatuous: silly and pointless. As in, this week was fatuous. Alex thought with a slightly manic grin fatuous, but great. It had actually started a bit before then…

* * *

"Tom, just because you're good at tiptoeing doesn't mean you're meant to be a spy."

Tom was currently pouting in front of him and Tulip Jones, who'd finally remembered that Tom needed to sign the official secrets act. Tulip was now trying to convince him that, no, he was not spying material. Alex knew enough to stay well out of this fight. Neither Tom nor Jones was anybody he wanted to piss off. Tom's current argument consisted of being good at tiptoeing and wanting adventure. Tulip was less than convinced. Alex was quietly sitting in the corner and feigning sleep. The two seemed to have forgotten his existence. "Alex, what do you think?"

God damn it, Tulip. Why did she have to bring him into this? Now, he needed an answer that wouldn't piss either of them off. "I'm just a lowly agent, ma'am. I wouldn't know the first thing about hiring decisions."

Tulip sighed; she knew that was probably the best she'd get out of him. Tom was eyeing him. "Well, I don't, Tom. I just show up and blow stuff up."

Jones clicked her tongue. "Oh, no. The job has much more finesse than that."

Tom immediately had a reply. Alex tuned them out in favor of his nap. Sue him, but he was injured and tired and had about three hours of sleep. Alex was now sleeping. Tulip stared openly. He looked so sweet and innocent. Tom saw that his friend was asleep. "And it would give poor, sleep-deprived Alex a break. Do you know how much homework he has when he gets back?"

Tulip Jones have Tom the evil eye. "The answer is no and that's final."

Tom looked at his friend. "Should we wake him?" What Alex's boss didn't know _might_ not kill her. "I mean, as the responsible adult, why don't you do it?"

This was going to be hilarious. Well, for Tom. Tulip walked up to Alex and tapped him on the shoulder. There was a flash of movement and she was pinned underneath him. His hands were around her throat. Alex's eyes snapped open. The hands around her throat instantly eased up. "Jesus, Tulip, I'm sorry. You have to wake me up a special way."

He got off of her and she rubbed her throat. "Quite alright, I had worse in chokehold practice."

Alex pitied the guy who had to practice with Alan Blunt. Imagine that creep with his hands around your neck. Alex looked sheepish. "You still do physical training?"

Jones sighed. "It's an actual requirement for the job, Alex. Now, you two should probably get going. It will be dark soon."

They both exited her office. "Goodbye, Mrs. Jones."

* * *

Tulip Jones felt her oncoming migraine long before the argument with Harris ended. It was one of the reasons she'd waited so long to make him sign an OSA form. That, and it wouldn't be legally binding before a certain age without getting his even more migraine-inducing parents involved. At least Alex's (accidental) strangulation gave her enough of an adrenaline rush that her headache cleared up until she got home. She wondered if he'd volunteer to be her partner for said practice next quarter. Most people weren't really willing to try too hard to strangle their boss. Tulip hadn't felt this startled in years. Drat. Perhaps she should offer Alex some therapy (again)? It seemed a bit late for that. Harris had all but moved into Alex's house with her favorite agent and his housekeeper. While Harris was good for Rider's mental state, he wasn't good for her. The boy had just signed the OSA after years of knowing the truth. Plus, he was an absolute pest when he felt that either he or his best friend had been slighted. She supposed the child wasn't the sole cause of her headache, but it certainly hasn't helped to have to reduce herself to arguing with a teenager that wasn't Alex. Grrr. Alex had left the two of them to just argue, as well. Tulip sighed and wondered if migraine medication was worth the security risk. Maybe. Crawley would probably give her a ten-page report on why it was a bad idea. Why couldn't they have Alex with Harris' enthusiasm? It would make her life so much easier.

* * *

"Aleeeeeex."

Alex groaned out loud as he attempted to do his French homework. The key word in that sentence was _trying_. His best friend was currently interfering with his concentration. Tom was now poking him with a pen, knowing full well Alex wouldn't actually retaliate in any meaningful way. Alex didn't _actually_ want to hurt his friend. Never mind the slightly homicidal thoughts he was entertaining on five hours of sleep; don't mind them at all. Tom was now escalating the stabbing motions. At this rate, he might actually break skin. _Must not acknowledge or punch best friend._ Alex vaguely wondered if there was French for that. Probably. For a language that was known for elegance, it certainly had quite a few filthy phrases. The reason he was ignoring Tom was the fact that Tom's current idea was liable to get them shot. After a particularly violent jab that nearly broke is skin, Alex decided it was best to give in and not have to explain to the emergency services how he got a pen stuck in his arm. "Yes, Tom?"

The incessant jabbing ceased immediately. "I want your help with something."

Alex sighed. This better be good. He was behind enough without pranks on top of everything else. "I had an idea."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Well, Tom, spit it out. It's not as though you don't normally spew out whatever comes to mind."

Alex could already feel an oncoming headache. This was going to be the height of entertaining idiocy, he just knew it. "I want to prank your boss."

Alex stared at him. "Why? I mean, more than usual."

Tom grinned. "I figure that if I prove I'm able to get past her defenses, she'll have to hire me."

Alex briefly wondered if there was something in the water. Nope. This was just the sort of thing his best friend would come up with. Then again, Tom _had_ gone to Venice with him. Plus, Tulip's reaction _would_ be hilarious and his homework _was_ boring as hell. "Alright, what do you want me to do?"

Alex wondered if he was going to regret this when his friend's eyes began to shine with unholy glee. "Well, we could get your old boss, too. What was his name?"

Alex sighed. "Blunt."

They were going to get charged with terrorism. Tom grinned. "See, I'm already helping you reclaim your lost childhood, Alex."

Alex felt a grin beginning to form on his face despite his certainty that this wouldn't end well.

* * *

Tom Harris was in prankster's heaven. The only thing better than watching his plans come to fruition was making the plans. He was only volunteering to be a spy so he could spend more time doing awesome things with Alex. It wasn't Alex's fault, but the time he had to spend on missions and homework left very little fun time for him and Jack. It wasn't fair that all the boring middle-aged people at the fake bank got all of Alex's free time. Besides, he was sure that between Alex and his sneaking skills, breaking into places would be a piece of cake. Alex was still doing homework. Well, maybe this would teach him how to have fun again. In the meantime, he had plans to make. What should he do? TP-ing was basic. Eggs were _so_ last year. Graffiti just didn't have the same personal touch. Setting stuff on fire got you arson charges. Tom was hit with a sudden burst of inspiration. Grumpy old people always complained about losing their hair, right? Well, he could just accelerate the process. It was an idea. They might think he poisoned them, though. Time to consult the internet. The first few sites were a bit lame, but he found one that looked promising. Tom's slightly manic grin at the third entry would have alarmed anybody who saw it. Pssh. These were positively evil. Tom was positive that Alex would love them as much as he did.

* * *

Jack Starbright knew when her boys were up to something. The past few days had definitely rung her trouble radar as a parent. Tom and Alex were clearly planning some sort of ghastly prank war. She was tempted to ask, she really was. The 'school project' items they asked for were a truly bizarre combination. At the same time, this had originated in the minds of two teenage boys. Jack was not entirely sure she wanted to know the twisted plan they came up with. With Alex and Tom, sometimes it was better not to ask. She might need plausible deniability as she tried not to giggle until after whatever inevitable disciplinary meeting she was called in for was over. Jack fondly remembered all the pranks that had pulled as children. Ah, the good old days of having her hair dyed purple for a month. They'd ended up with a lovely shade of pink. She couldn't have them thinking she was some kind of a stuffy pushover. Alex had even got Ian a few times. Jack still wasn't quite sure how Alex managed to break into the guy's office and freeze all of the non-electronic components in a block of ice that had to be melted and gotten all the electronic components in jello, but it had sure been hysterically funny. Well, Ian had been panicked when he'd found out Alex had been in his office long enough to pull off the prank, but he'd get back at them. Jack had woken up one day with drawings all over both of them and no clue how to wash them off. No matter how much soap, acetone, and alcohol they tried, nothing worked. Ian had refused to give them the chemical to remove the marker until his office had been put back together. Jack found herself smiling at the memory of all the mischief they'd gotten up to. She let out a sigh as she was brought back to the present. Ian was dead. Alex was working for MI6 less than voluntarily while trying to stay in school. Tom had finally moved in, though. Jack tried to stay positive. She hadn't been on a date in ages. Oh, that was it. "Boys! You get down here now!" They both knew better than to keep her waiting. The two of them were both downstairs. "I want in on the prank war."

The two exchanged glances and gulped. Tom spoke first. "It's on Blunt and Jones."

Jack let her own manic grim show. "Even better."

Alex stared at his friends. "You two are scary sometimes. Wonderful, but scary."

* * *

Smithers wondered if he actually had an obligation to report the current 'plotting' going on at the Rider residence. MI6 kept a very close watch on them, of course. Strictly speaking, he only had to report threats to national security of kidnapping attempts. This was neither of those, though it had the potential to be rather disruptive. Smithers remembered when he was Alex's age quite fondly. He could appreciate a good prank. The amusement he felt was really what sealed it. The higher-ups could use a good shaking-up that didn't involve death, destruction, or mayhem once in a while. Smithers might even try to covertly help them if he could. Mind you, he was a grown man, so he couldn't openly help. If the security cameras just happened to blip out at convenient times for Alex Rider and company, it was no fault of his. Tsk, tsk. They should have gotten better cameras. Smithers wondered if Mrs. Jones really could always tell if you lied to her. Well, he was about to find out. Ah, the joys of being young and fun-loving. He wondered if Crawley still had the office betting ring organized. This would be _the event_ to make bets on. Plus, Smithers wasn't above rigging said betting ring in his favor. As much as he liked some of his coworkers, there was just a happy bit of fun in beating them with a betting pool. Eh, they could afford it, anyway, with all the hazard pay field agents got.

* * *

Alex smiled wryly as he began his prank on Alan Blunt. He and Tom had to wait for school to get out. Alex was shocked to find out that the man had a wife and kids. For some reason, Alex had always seen him as a consummate, suspicious loner. Whatever. His wife and kids probably didn't know what he did for a living, knowing Blunt. The point was that he'd had to wait until they went on holiday to get into their house. Alex wanted the maximum amount of time to look around. Plus, he didn't want to prank the innocent wife and kids on accident. There were principles to be upheld. Alex found the man's boring office soon enough. The couple appeared to have separate bedrooms. Blunt had a bland shade of white, grey, or blue for most of it and his wife's bedroom was a ghastly shade of pastel pink that no sane person over the age of six liked. Well, she had married Blunt. The poor woman could not be blamed for her madness brought on by being conned into marriage by one of the coldest men he'd ever met. Alex shuddered at the thought of Alan Blunt reproducing before deciding to stick to pranking the man's office. Tom had decided that this would be a competition, with Alex and Jack on one side and him on the other. Alex mentally rolled his eyes but was secretly enjoying the banter and competitive spirit. Jack had volunteered to be the 'brains', which left Alex doing most of the manual labor. Alex felt it was pretty satisfying anyway.

First things first. Alex opened the backpack he'd brought with him and proceeded to open the keyboard as well. He then put in some of the beginner soil for one of those grass pets everybody had as a child. The seeds went on top, along with some water, and he was done with part one. This was going to be a long day, if very satisfying. Alex longingly eyed some of the more dangerous pranks. Setting Blunt's mirror on fire would probably be going too far. They might accuse him of an assassination attempt. SCORPIA trained, blah, blah, blah. The stupid shits didn't realize that SCORPIA would just plant a bomb linked to something in the house and blow up the entire block. At any rate, Alex got back to moving everything in the office exactly two centimeters to the left. After that, he would wrap everything in the office (minus the keyboard) in tin foil. The key of the excepted keyboard would have a googly eye attached to every single key. Blunt might not react, but Alex would be greatly amused to see the footage of him peeling each eye off one by one. Speaking of eyes, he had a camera to install. It would transfer the footage, just in case the original was destroyed. Technically, it wasn't his, but Smithers hadn't asked for it back. Besides, Alex had a vague feeling the man would enjoy this use of his inventions far more. The last thing he did was leave the curtains open so the grass would get some sunlight. Come to think of it, Blunt could use some extra sun, too...

* * *

Tom Harris would like to think he was sneaky. Unfortunately, he hadn't accounted for the fact that the door would be locked. Or the fact that the place would have, you know, alarms. Welp. Time for plan B. He dialed Alex's number into his phone. "I need your help."

Alex resisted the snarky comment that sprang to mind. "Fine."

Tom grinned. This was going to be awesome. Alex would just help him break in and they could bond while they vandalized his boss' office. Alex got there in fifteen minutes flat. "So, can you get us in?"

Alex sighed. "Yes."

The lock was easy enough to mess with, but the silent alarm would be a pain in the ass. You'd think an intelligence agency would spend the extra couple of hundred pounds for an actually secure lock. Then again, Alex was sure most people who were actual enemies or rivals could break those anyway. The minute they entered the building, Alex scanned the room for any indication of said silent alarm. He dragged Tom into the elevator and covered his friend's mouth to keep him from leaving audio evidence. Right, it was in Jones' office. At least they were heading there anyway. Once they got to the floor, Alex made a beeline for the office and found the switch to shut down the extra security and alarm and released Tom. "What was that for?!"

Alex scowled. "Why don't you say that a little louder? I don't think the whole block heard us, yet. Audio surveillance. I had to shut it down with the other security measures. Besides, you bloody bit me. I think we're even."

Tom huffed and began setting up the pranks. "Man, you're grumpy in spy-mode."

Alex grinned. "Yes, I am."

It was a few hours before they were finished. Alex glanced at a nearby window and saw that the sun was beginning to rise. Well, damn people would be here soon. "Tom, the sun is rising."

Tom shrugged. "And?"

Alex sighed. "People will be here soon."

Tom grimaced. "I'm not done yet."

Alex gave his friend the evil eye. "Well, I'm leaving. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Tom smirked. "Chicken. You're just jealous that I'm going to win the prank war."

Alex shrugged. "A good spy knows when to retreat."

With that, Alex decided to head into the ceiling vents. Tom could probably talk his way out of this anyway. Plus, Tom wasn't exactly noiseless in air vents like he was and Tulip would not do any serious harm. Tom could just consider it a training exercise of sorts. Alex decided to give his friend one last attempt to help. He exited out the alarmed fire escape, setting off alarms for the whole building before using his back-up (and sadly normal) climbing gear to go down fourteen floors or so in less than two minutes.

* * *

Tulip Jones was less than thrilled to catch Tom Harris in her office after a false fire alarm (that he'd ignored). The only thing flimsier than his excuse was her patience for the matter at hand. "What on Earth are you doing in my office?!"

Harris just sort of shrugged and muttered under his breath. Tulip had never moved faster toward her phone in her memory. She had Alex on speed dial. "Alexander Jonathan Rider, if you do not come to pick up your hooligan friend in one hour, I will find the most freezing miserable hellhole in my register of bases and relocate the three of you there."

Tulip was currently taking deep breaths to avoid having an emotional reaction to what _used_ to be a nice, clean, organized, and soundproof office. She didn't get very many perks at Head of MI6, but the office was one of them. She reminded herself that strangling fifteen-year-olds was not acceptable behavior. "Jack'll be there in a few minutes if that's okay. I didn't get much sleep last night and am feeling slightly nauseous. I'd hate to ruin the carpet."

Actually, it was because he was super tired _and_ he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. Jones felt a small fond smile appear on her face. "Of course it will be fine."

On second thought, having Starbright, a person who with actual parental authority, come would probably be better. "Good day, Mrs. Jones."

Such a nice, polite boy. Jones wondered how much of it was cover and how much of it was real. She would never ask such a thing. "Now, care to tell me what you were _actually_ doing here?"

Tom gulped. The lady was suddenly a lot more terrifying. For some reason, he hadn't been able to picture her doing more than desk work. Well, Alex _had_ tried to warn him. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure he wanted to work for her anymore. "Just hanging out, Mrs. Jones."

She smirked. Tom gulped. "Really? You were 'just hanging out'. I suppose my office redecorated itself, then."

Tom's smile came out more nervous than he would've liked. "Yep."

Jones moved onto her next question. "And how did you get in?"

There was no way Tom was giving up his best mate. "I don't know what you mean. I just waltzed in the front door."

Mrs. Jones sighed. "The lock jimmied itself and the alarm shut off on its own. Really?"

Tom nodded emphatically. Mrs. Jones glared at him. "Tom Harris, never in all my years of MI6 have I heard a less believable story. I suppose I'll have to get a blood sample."

Tom was really alarmed at the idea of Mrs. Jones being near him with a needle. She smiled sweetly, produced a syringe, and jabbed him in the arm with more force than Tom thought was strictly necessary. "Ow. Why?"

Mrs. Jones smirked. "Well, whatever you've been drugged with might come in handy for interrogations."

Unbeknownst to one of them, Tom had issues seeing blood. The minute she began drawing blood, the room began to spin. Tulip stared at the boy. Blood-injury phobia? Well, it wasn't _terribly_ uncommon, but it would definitely rule out spying as a career. You couldn't have your operatives fainting at the sight of their own blood. It could be treated, but it was an automatic disqualifier in her book. Analyst, yes. Field Agent, hell no. Tulip Jones figured she should just enjoy the quiet while it lasted.

* * *

Jack Starbright was not happy to be woken up at seven o'clock to rescue her second charge from a failed prank on Tulip Jones. At least she and Alex's prank was successful as far as she knew. Jack hated not knowing, but she was supposed to be a responsible adult and therefore could not be seen prancing the people she dearly wanted to. She decided that Alex could fend for himself whenever he got back and decided to get breakfast on the way back. She got to the bank in record time because there was little to no traffic. Jack started eating the minute she got into the elevator. It was seven in the morning and she refused to face this without breakfast. It was _absolutely thrilling_ to do this, really. No, of course, she didn't have anything better to do, like maybe sleeping. A deep breath was let out and she wondered why Tom hadn't just followed Alex out. Even she knew that when Alex said it was time to go, it was time to go. He and Ian were both like that. They had a sixth sense for trouble. The one time shed ignored Ian on his advice she'd been caught in a (nonviolent, but extremely inconvenient) protest. There was also that one time in a carnival that the hot dog stand had blown up minutes after they left. Ian probably had something to do with that, now that she thought about it. She threw open the office door and came across an unconscious Tom and a very smug woman. "Why is he unconscious?!"

They both knew there was no way Tom Harris would voluntarily sleep or be quiet in her presence. Mrs. Jones' innocent look would have been convincing to anyone who hadn't known Tom since primary school. "Why do you assume I have something to do with it?"

Jack had not slept much last night. She was also irritated in general with the woman. "Because _it always has something to do with you_! Mrs. Jones, _so help me_ , if Tom isn't completely fine, I will murder you with my bare hands, head of an intelligence agency or not. Now. What. Did. You. Do."

Mrs. Jones blinked. "He fainted when I took a blood sample. Routine blood draw after my office gets broken into. We have to check for drugs, you see."

Jack huffed. "I'll take it. For now."

Mrs. Jones sighed after a momentary pause from both of them. "Is there a reason you aren't getting your charge out of here?"

Jack looked at her. "I'll need help getting him out. I, unlike you, don't do physical training and cannot lift boys over about the age of thirteen or fourteen for more than a few seconds."

Jones paged Daniels. "Agent Daniels, kindly come up here and assist Ms. Starbright."

The man was up there in a few minutes. "Why do you think he hasn't woken up yet?"

Jack sighed. "It hasn't even been thirty minutes."

They both got Tom into the car with a minimum of stares. Jack stared. "Hi, I'm Fox. I occasionally work with Cu-Alex."

Fox just waved at her as she drove off. Jack would just have to hope Alex could help her.

* * *

As it worked out, Alex and Jack got home at the same time. The two of them managed to get Tom inside without the nosy neighbor spotting them. Alex sat next to Jack on the couch. "I feel hungover without the alcohol."

Jack rolled her eyes. It was his fault he's pulled an all-nighter. "Since when do you actually drink?"

Alex shrugged. "I guess I really don't."

He sat next to Jack. "So what do we do now?"

Jack gave him a look. "I should be the evil responsible parent who makes you do homework."

Alex gave her one of the most pathetic looks she'd ever seen on him. "But in light of recent events, I think we all need an off day."

Jack grinned at his entirely too relieved look. Was there any chance she could convince people that school was cruel and unusual punishment? Probably not, but maybe Alex could. Jack moved from where they were both rather tiredly sitting on the couch. "TV okay?"

Alex shrugged. He didn't actually care, except when some of the people from Parliament had their annoying voices on TV. There were a few who just had been born with the slick oily voices he tended to associate with politicians. Jack had that one news lady she absolutely couldn't stand. Alex could not figure out why, but he suspected that it had something to do with the fact that one of Jack's favorite boyfriends had a crush on her. Alex generally took the news with a grain or two of salt, since he'd seen first-hand how susceptible to government influence it was. Cough. Mrs. Jones and Crawley. Cough. Alex must have drifted off because he didn't even hear Jack making chocolate chip cookies. It was one of her few exceptions to the ten-minute rule of cooking. The smell of delicious chocolate chip cookies was what woke him up. He got up and grabbed a few, not caring if they were warm enough to burn his hands. In Alex opinion, cookies were best while the chocolate still got on your hand because the cookie hadn't completely solidified yet. Jack was giving him an amused look. "What?"

The redhead smirked. "As gratifying as it is to watch you scarf those down like there's no tomorrow, we are about to have lunch."

Alex gave her a sheepish look. "Don't worry, I still have room for lunch."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Boys."

Tom Harris had also smelled cookies and was coming down to investigate. "Lunch?"

Jack pointed to the table. "Yep."

The three sat down together. "So, did Jones call you again or anything?"

That was Alex. "No. I think she might be cooling off."

Alex tilted his head. "Or she likes keeping us in suspense."

There were people who employed such tactics, though they were usually not in law enforcement. Tom grinned. "Or coming up with my codename."

Alex snorted. "Oh Tom, it'll be two words."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Alex prepared to dodge any seat cushion thrown his way. "Dream on."

Sure enough, a seat cushion narrowly missed his head and (more concerning) his plate. Jack glared at them. "Pillow fight after lunch, you two."

Their answer came out at the same time. "Yes, ma'am."

The rest of lunch was spent with the two of them glowering at each other in preparation for the great pillow war.

* * *

Tulip Jones was almost done cleaning her office a week after said prank attempt was halted midway through. It seemed that Harris, while nowhere near Alex in other skill levels, shared his penchant for destruction. Crawley was supervising. "So are you going to punish him or not? We could get him for trespassing."

Tulip sighed. "With those two? It's more trouble than it is worth."

Crawley shrugged. "Not really my business anyhow. Do you have a pick for deputy yet?"

Tulip sighed. Another headache she had to deal with. As tempting as it was to just have Alex, the government portion of national security would not support that appointment. Bad enough that she hadn't informed them that they were still using Alex (although fifteen going on sixteen wasn't nearly as bad as fourteen). Crawley was out because of political reasons. Alex was technically her top agent as well, which would leave him third in line, should anything unfortunate happen to both her and her deputy. Daniels was too new. Blunt was out forever. The others on the list were unsuitable for a variety of reasons. Mostly having to do with their ambition or private agenda. That and having Alex around complicated things considerably. Most of them would consider some of the more morally dubious options regarding him and she refused to have that. The others were so inflexible that they would report her straight away. It was enough to give anyone an aneurysm. Poaching Joe Byrne from the CIA wasn't really an option and she trusted Ethan Brooke about as much as she trusted SCORPIA. Well, she had another six months, at least.

* * *

Alan Blunt had retired from his long career in espionage a few months ago. In truth, he'd been forced to step down, but technically he'd resigned to spend more time with his family. Blunt supposed he liked them well enough, but his wife (while good with kids) was rather dull compared to Tulip. His kids were average enough, he supposed. They would do well in college. He hadn't really spent much time with either his wife or them in the past few years. There was a sort of distance between him and the three of them, he supposed. Was this how Alex felt when he went to school? It was kind of lonely, actually. He was used to having Tulip and Crawley and Alex around. Blunt enjoyed Alex's company more than he thought he had. Sure, he was disrespectful and called him insane. Sure, he blackmailed the kid. Yeah, the puns were mildly creepy and might be an indication of mild insanity, but at least he wasn't boring. Plus, the mission reports were priceless. _I would have been disappointed, too,_ indeed. Maybe he should look into consulting work? Yeah, that would be it. This holiday was boring. Of course, normal banker him was pretending to like it and listened to his wife's suggestions. Alan Blunt the spy hated it. He had to carefully scan for bugs and check that his security was still in place (it wouldn't be the first time someone tried to get the drop on him at the beach). Plus, he didn't think any of his kids were actually speaking with him at the moment. Something about not be around all that much when they were younger. Blunt let out yet another sigh and a 'yes, dear' to his wife's suggestion of going to the same restaurant. He could introduce her to some actually nice ones, he supposed. Then again, she wasn't very curious in the food department. Plus, he'd eaten with Tulip at a lot of those and he didn't really want people talking. His wife might get the wrong idea. Tulip had been his friend and long-time co-worker and nothing else. Blunt wondered if Tulip had taken his advice to heart or not. It didn't matter now, he supposed. He no longer had any kind of actual say in MI6 anymore, at least officially. Blunt wondered whether his wife was actually serious about divorcing once the kids were out of college. He didn't think he really cared that much one way or the other. Work had been his life and soul.

* * *

Alex Rider was expecting a lot of things in life, like homework and school, but not expecting Blunt's reaction to his prank. He had been getting water at about five in the morning (and trying to cram in that last bit of homework before school) when he just about had a stroke at the sight of Alan Blunt in his kitchen. At least he was dressed. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

He hissed his reaction out and did his best not to douse them both in water. Blunt shrugged. "Jumpy, aren't we?"

Alex gave Blunt the evil eye. "And who do I have to thank for that?"

Blunt sighed. "Point. Were the grass in the keyboard and saran-wrapping my chair really necessary?"

Alex glared. "Yes, it was." Blunt was as blank as normal. "Can I help you with something? Is the Alzheimer's setting in?"

Blunt just gave him a look. "Well, you decided my house was open to you. I thought I might return the favor, especially since you left such a wonderful housewarming gift."

Blunt actually pulled a wrapped gift out. Alex eyed it suspiciously. "It isn't going to steal my blood and bind me eternally to MI6 is it?" Blunt turned his eerie grey eyes on him. "Fine, fine. If it has anthrax, I want the words, 'Alan Blunt is a dick,' written on my gravestone, got it?"

Alex saw Blunt seeming to try to make an expression. It took him a minute to realize the man was amused. Alex opened the suspiciously heavy package. It was vodka – some of the semi-nice kind. "It was your father's favorite. I thought I might help you out with your teenage rebellion since you saved the world, you know. Drink safely." The man turned to leave. "Oh, one last thing."

Alex nearly growled. "It better not be another mission."

Blunt was still blank. "Oh, no. Just a recommendation. Keep Harris away from espionage. He'll make a horrendous spy."

Well, Blunt would know, now wouldn't he? With that, Alan Blunt left him. What. The. Fuck. Alex gave the bottle a considering look. Maybe the man had lost it? Who knew?

* * *

 **The End**


End file.
